Persephone
by Catsitta
Summary: She was the spring to his perpetual winter. A story of obsession, the expectations of society, and the cost of war. AU after OotP with touches of the marriage law challenge. Oneshot.


**A/N:**

**Warning! Sensitive material up ahead. Mature Readers Only!**

**Summary:** She was the spring to his perpetual winter. A story of obsession, the expectations of society, and the cost of war. AU after OotP with touches of the marriage law challenge.

**Word Count: **11,686

**Persephone **

**By Catsitta**

.1.

A single candle offered light in the gloom. It flickered and danced—casting but a faint glow into the oppressive shadows. Said flame was the only witness to the tears of a young witch as she curled upon herself on the floor. "This can't be happening," she moaned, her voice raw with emotion. And for a moment, she sobbed in silence—in solitude. Then, the door opened, pouring faint light into the room, framing a dark silhouette.

The witch's eyes widened and the grim figure entered. His black cloak swirled around him, swept behind him…billowed as if caught by some nonexistent wind. His eyes—his dark, fathomless, bottomless eyes—glinted in the scant light. With one step and a single, swift motion, he relieved himself of his voluminous robe and carefully hung it from the corner of a high-backed wooden chair. Left in shirtsleeves, trousers and buttons—countless buttons—he drew even closer to the girl.

"No…no…Leave me alone. Please." The witch bid, shrinking away like a frightened animal. When the wizard came to hover over her, she clamped her eyes—brilliant, warm, honey-brown eyes—shut, and threw and arm over her face. Long, calloused fingers closed over a bird-boned wrist and a heartbeat later, the wizard forced the witch to her feet with a harsh yank. "I…Why? Why me? Why now?"

Gently, the wizard pressed her palm against his lips and breathed in the scent of her skin. Then he dropped kisses on smooth flesh; a sharp contrast to his demeanor and the grip he held on her wrist. He nuzzled her inner-forearm and pulled the witch closer to his body, though not close enough for his hard, muscular form to crush against her soft, feminine one. When he lifted his lips from her skin and looked at her face, the witch began to struggle, both against the wizard and the tears flooding her eyes.

"Why? Why? Why?" She chanted, emphasizing each word with an ever weakening tug.

"Always asking questions, Miss Granger…or should I say, Madame Snape? No? What about _Hermione_. Now cease your pitiful display, girl. Your hysterics are nauseating and uncalled for."

"I never agreed to this!"

"Magic doesn't care about consent, my dear. Especially not magic as old as the kind that ties us."

"It's archaic! Barbaric!"

"Indeed. But it has its place in our world. Be glad that it is I whom the Act bound you to in contract and not one of the enemy. I can think of a good number of Purebloods and radical Half-Bloods in the Dark Lord's court whom would have killed you long before you reached your wedding night."

The wizard brushed the pad of a thumb over Hermione's damp eyes and wiped away the moisture gathering at the corners. Then he cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth, his lips seeking hers, only to have the witch turn her face.

"I'm…I'm not even seventeen…y-you're twice my age! Y-you're my professor! Please…stop."

"You turned seventeen months ago, my dear. I believe that has something to do with a certain time turner your third year. Appreciate the fact we did not wed on the eve of your entering majority, as is tradition." With an impassive expression, he caught Hermione's jaw and held her immobile. "You have had three years to accept our engagement and expect our nuptials. Do stop sniveling. It is not becoming of a witch your age."

"Please."

"Please what?" the wizard drawled—practically purred. He released her jaw and pressed their bodies flush together. Still, he held her wrist, his thumb drawing circles on goose-pimpled flesh. "Please touch you? Please kiss you? Please take you to my bed and make you my wife?" Again, he tried to kiss her and again, Hermione turned her face. The wizard growled; his severe visage darkening as he grabbed her jaw once again, this time with bruising force. She squeaked. "Don't turn away from me again, girl."

"You're a terrible, hateful man!"

He responded by kissing her. She struggled against him and flinched each time his lips crushed against hers. After a few fruitless seconds, the wizard pulled away.

"I can be very good to you, Hermione. Give me a chance. Stop resisting."

"No."

"Would you rather be forced against you will?"

"No! Y-you wouldn't…"

"Indeed. I would never force you, but the magicks of the Act will. Surrender on your own accord and this will be a much more pleasant experience for us both. Resist and it will drive you mad."

"What about you?"

"Old men designed the Act centuries ago to bind Muggleborns to wizarding society. The magic has little hold on me...while it has a death grip on you. Do not tell me the little know-it-all didn't do her research?"

Hermione did not reply. She simply went limp in the wizard's arms. Wordlessly, her unwanted husband gathered her in his arms and brought her to the center of the room and laid her on the massive bed she had been avoiding. She scuttled away when his left hand began to trace the exposed curve of her neck.

"Where is your Gryffindor courage?"

"Please don't do this, Professor."

"My name is Severus. I gave you use of it upon our engagement."

"I was fourteen, you bastard!"

"There was a time when fourteen meant a toddler on your knee and another on the way."

Hermione shuddered and pressed her back against the headboard. The diaphanous fabric of her wedding robes trailed across the duvet and entangled betwixt her legs. On a normal wedding night, the material would be long gone by now, the ties plucked by the husband and the cloth stripped from the flesh it barely disguised. Tonight, it was her only shield between her innocence and the unknown of womanhood.

Severus knelt on the mattress and skimmed his hand over her ankle and calf.

"I wish the circumstances of our union were different," he said. Absently, he continued to stroke up Hermione's leg, his reflexes and greater strength preventing her from retracting the outstretched limb. "Given that I never planned to marry, to have an unwilling bride…" His voice trailed off. "Let me be good to you, Hermione. Let me shelter you. Be mine."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"I hate you."

"Why? I am as much a victim as you. This marriage endangers my position in the war, my job as instructor and my very life."

"Just…just shut up and d-do…it. I don't know why you're talking so much…"

"Am I not allowed to exchange discourse with my wife?"

"Please."

Severus reached forwards and picked up Hermione's hands. He then placed them on his chest in a silent demand. With trembling fingers, his young bride obliged and his own digits made short work of the ties holding together her robes. As the last layers fell, the wizard leaned across the witch towards the single candle flickering on the nightstand.

His hawkish visage was the last thing the flame saw before it was snuffed out.

.x.

From the very first time she raised her hand in class, he knew. She would be one of the unfortunate chosen. Those bright, brown eyes were brimming with brilliance. Knowledge spewed forth from her lips without prompting and every spare moment was spent with her nose buried in a book. His peers preened in the light of her intelligence and innate talent. Only a blind man or fool could not see the magical energy crackling across her skin as youthful power was harnessed and tamed into spells. Few others surpassed her in raw talent and none in her peerage came close to matching her wit. Add upon that her muggle heritage and one knew that she was, from the very start, doomed.

Severus Snape took pride in his work, even if the incompetent dunderheads he taught never appreciated the skills he ingrained into them through strict discipline and a dose of sheer terror. To know from the start that one of his students, a gem amongst the shifting sands of the desert, would be bridled and broken by the world she belonged in by birth had, at the time, angered him. If these were different times, perhaps a century earlier, the presence of Miss Hermione Granger in his class would have sparked pride instead of sorrow. Then, a certain law of the wizarding world would have been but a trite issue. She would have made a good wife to some alchemist's son –her life and well-being secure.

With the rise of Grindlewauld and later, the Dark Lord, being a talented a muggleborn was a death sentence. No Noble bloodline would have accepted her or any of her offspring. Not anymore. Now the purebloods ignored a large part of their history and tradition in favor of ignorance. They refused to acknowledge that many of their family trees were lush with "tainted" branches due to an Act imposed centuries ago. An Act the purebloods welcomed at first as a means of preserving the statute of secrecy, and later as a means of securing heirs for the best and the brightest to better society.

An Act that prevailed to this day due to the very magic embedded into the stones of Hogwarts and other ancient institutes of higher learning.

An Act which was responsible for their recent binding.

Severus could recall when he first heard the news from the headmaster. It had come as quite a surprise when the little witch's name appeared beside his on a fine scroll of velum. Albus took his bowed head and silence during the meeting in his office as revulsion overcome by a stifling sense of duty. Thus the ancient wizard offered flimsy assurances alongside thinly veiled warnings in regards to the girl's health and safety.

In reality, revulsion never crossed his mind. Nor did guilt. For a time, after his engagement to a fourteen-year-old muggleborn had been announced, he wanted to feel like a lecherous pervert. He wanted his conscious to berate him as a predator and a monster. But no such feelings came. A small, incredibly selfish part of him said,"Mine!" from the moment he heard of his forthcoming nuptials. Severus Snape disliked the disgusting ingrates he taught and protected…but the thought of a young witch for a wife…wanting him, needing him, beneath him…It held appeal.

Now that the day had come and Hermione was his wife in fullest sense of the word, he felt only pride and satisfaction. She was his and only his. A young, malleable mind whom he could shape to his liking. Even if she despised him now, he would do all that was in his power to change that hate into desire, if not love. Young witches often equated physical affectation to love, especially emotionally vulnerable ones like his new wife. She would cling to any feeling of rightness –he would savor it and greedily ply for more.

The world could damn him to Hades for his possessiveness, but unlike the lord of the dead, Severus was not about to let his Persephone escape the darkness of his embrace. Hermione would be his always. Nothing Dumbledore nor the Dark Lord could say would change that. Nothing she said would change that.

He was a man that most believe would curse the Act for ruining his life and that of a rising star. But no one really knew him. No one knew what it was like to live in the dark, wallowing in despair and guilt until years of self-sacrifice shattered most of his humanity. But he knew. And Hermione was the Spring amongst the everlasting Winter of his life.

.x.

With the rise of the sun, rose the potions master and his bride. It was the seventh morning of their marriage, and the seventh morning Severus attempted to engage his new wife in a simple, wake-up kiss. It was the seventh morning Hermione refused him with the turn of her head. Her eyes begged him to cease and desist with any pleasantries and to leave her alone. She made it very clear earlier in the week that she hated waking up next to him and that the last thing she wanted was him to pretend that they were a normal married couple. They were in an arrangement, not lovers, she claimed. And if he would let her, she would happily sleep elsewhere than their marriage bed.

A fact which Severus wanted to rectify.

Thus when she untangled herself from the sheets, he looped an armed around her waist and pulled her against his chest. Hermione struggled, same as she did every evening when he strong armed her from whatever place she tried to sleep into their bed. He never hinted at continuing their physical intimacy beyond the consummation of their union, aside from his attempts to kiss her now and then, but he burned for her. Her body felt so nice wriggling against his and he looked forwards to proving that sex was far more enjoyable with time and practice, and that the breeching of her virginity was but the beginning.

"Let me go!" Hermione swung an elbow to catch him in the ribs. As a man quite familiar with pain, Severus merely grunted and restrained the witch more securely.

"Try to be civil."

"No!"

"Must you act like a child?"

"I'm not a child!"

"Then behave. Your pouting and insufferable tantrums are to come to an end. "

"You're one to talk."

Severus growled softly and stilled Hermione's actions with the gentlest of kisses along her neck. She stiffened, clearly discomfited, and began to mutter incoherently when he tugged at the matronly high collar of her night gown. He breathed in her scent and nuzzled the exposed inch of flesh. He heard what people said about him; he'd have to be deaf not to know what was said about him both behind his back and to his face. They thought him passionless and cold. He was the greasy dungeon bat who enjoyed bullying small children and playing with dark magic. They always forgot that he was a man, not some asexual being whose only pleasure could be derived from skulking about and ruining the happiness of others.

Outside these rooms, he'd have to fit the role he had to play on this ridiculous stage people called life. In here, he could indulge in his vices, his desires. And no longer did alcohol tempt him as a mistress for the night. No. He had a woman. A real mistress.

Caught in his thoughts, Severus did not notice how he was maneuvering Hermione. It was a frightened whimper that brought him back. Merlin! She looked beautiful on her back, her sleep tousled hair spilled out over the pillows. Too bad that he had to pin her down with his entire body before she would hold still for marginally longer than a minute. Despite the terror and dislike in her eyes, he felt the urge to capture those lips she was chewing on and snog her senseless. Common sense overruled that course of action however.

"I have every right to have you as I wish, you realize this, yes?"

"You would have to force me if you wish to invoke your 'husbandly rights'."

"I'd rather you came to me on your own volition."

"Never."

The venom in her voice surprised him. With a soft sigh, Severus released his young bride and watched as she scurried away to perform her morning ritual. It seemed that she would insist on making things difficult. Very well. If she thought him a vindictive bastard now, then she would change her tune very quickly. There was still a lot Hermione had to learn about wizarding culture.

.x.

Three days of silence later, Hermione raised all hell, starting with slamming open the door to their shared rooms with a bang. Severus was sitting in his favorite leather chair at the time, quietly finishing his lessons plans for the oncoming year—at last he had the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. He refrained from smirking. He'd been waiting for this.

"What is the meaning of this!" Hermione screeched—sounding like some uncultured fishwife. In one hand she held a crumpled envelope. In the other, she clutched her wand.

Severus did not deign to respond to her raised tones and merely flicked his eyes over her flushed face and tension tight body. The witch quivered with rage. Yes, he had quite the passionate lioness for a wife. Minerva would have kittens if she knew her favorite cub aroused Severus' more amorous attentions. Dumbledore would pale, more than likely, but avoid the subject in a dotty way as he none to subtly hint that his spy needed to keep his mind on not blowing his cover. As for Potter and the Weasley boy…it lifted his mood just to think about the lovely shades of purple they would turn.

His divine musings were interrupted by a very angry witch jabbing her wand at his face.

Instinct overcame all humor and with a serpentine strike, Severus disarmed his young bride. Indignant, Hermione drew her hand back and, to his surprise…SMACK! She slapped him. Severus Snape tolerated many things from his reluctant spouse, but refused to become her punching bag. He watched his parents fight for years, both with words and with physical violence. In the end, Tobias Snape broke his wife despite her "freakish" magic. He did not want history to repeat itself. Because if given a chance, he knew he would do as his father had done before him make a shattered woman out of his wife.

"Do. Not. Hit. Me." Severus warned in a lethal whisper. He realized quickly that he hovered above her now, his breath hot against her face.

"I…I'm sorry…" Hermione deflated in front of him, clearly ashamed of letting her temper get the better of her. "But…y…you…"

"I what?"

She swallowed and gathered her courage,"You deserved it." Hermione promptly thrust the paper in her hand under his nose. "How could you? You know what my education means to me! You know Harry needs me. Y-you railroaded over my entire life without a word of warning, you miserable bastard." Severus plucked the envelope from her hands and tucked it into his trouser pocket. He knew what it said. "Why? Why did you do this? Do you hate me that much? Is this some sick way of getting revenge on Harry?"

"Stop saying Potter's name."

"So it is about Harry!"

"No it is not, you silly girl."

"Then why did you pull me from my classes? I thought that, as a teacher and a master potioneer, you would understand the importance of school. You live in a school, for Merlin's Sake." She motioned wildly towards the walls.

"I have my reasons. The first and foremost is your safety."

"Safety?"

"You are muggleborn, girl. Every pureblood at Hogwarts has been waiting for you to come of age so that they would know for certain whom you were bound to by the Act. Your continued status as student would bring to question why you continued to live and who your husband was. A certain death sentence for the both of us if we were found out."

"But Dumbledore said that the Act doesn't affect many muggleborns anymore. He said that with the changes in culture and stabilizing of family bloodlines, the magicks of the Act are practically dormant. Hogwarts feels no need to bind those of muggle birth!"

"You have too much talent and hold too much importance to the future of wizarding Britain to leave untethered to our world." Severus replied in a smooth drawl. "And while it is rumored that Hogwarts is sentient, such is not true. A castle cannot _feel. _ It cannot _think_. It is the magic imbedded in the stones reacting to your own, and that of those around you. Anyone raised with an ounce of Pureblood etiquette has known you would be bound by the magicks of the Act the moment you entered Hogwart's hallowed halls."

"I…It's still unfair."

"Life is unfair, girl."

Hermione's lower lip began to tremble and tears dampened her eyes.

"My NEWTS. My future. All my plans…destroyed. The headmaster—"

"—Agrees with me on this issue."

"What?"

Severus ran his index finger along her jaw before tilting her chin up.

"He agrees with pulling you from classes. Though I have no plans on denying you your NEWTS."

"But…"

"Shush girl. When this war ends, you may take your exams if you wish." He took note of her brightening features. "But…On one condition."

"You said…"

"I said: Hush. You may take your exams when the war is over and if you comply with the terms of our marriage contract."

Hermione flushed prettily,"Which terms?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Hermione. You're a bright girl. You know which terms. The sooner those terms are fulfilled, the better."

"But…I have ten years to…to…"

"Bear two children." Severus finished for her. "Indeed. At least, you do if you do not mind having the magical capabilities of a squib at the end." At his young wife's gasp, he continued. "Two years, Hermione. That is the longest I suggest taking to conceive a child. At which point, your magical reserves will be diminished, but quick to return. The Act is a merciless one. It binds you to our realm in hopes you will accept your place and flourish, bringing children and innovation into world. If you resist and attempt to push the limits, it will bend you to its will, perfectly content with destroying all that you are until you are desperate to comply, if only to preserve a modicum of yourself."

"I…I have to help Harry! I can't do that if I'm…If I'm the size of a cow or have a brat on one knee."

"Who says I will allow my wife to put herself in danger to such a degree? Potter attracts trouble and your misadventures are not appropriate for a married woman."

"Next you're going to tell me I'm stuck in your rooms until the war is over and afterwards can never be alone with a male without an escort."

"If that is what it takes…"

"How _Victorian_ of you." Hermione spat, jerking away from his touch. "You act as if you own me. I'm no one's property!"

"No. You are my wife. Without my consent, you cannot maneuver in wizarding society. Even if the Act had left you unbound, by the time you graduated, you would be engaged. It is how things work. An unmarried witch cannot apprentice under a male Master, of which there is a majority. The Ministry would not hire you. Nor would many places of work. It is why your peers are keen on making matches rather than grades. A wedding band is a larger opportunity for a witch than all the NEWTs she can achieve."

"That's…"

"That is how things are. Now, if you are done with this tedious exchange, I have work to be done."

"Bastard!"

On that final note, Hermione stormed off, leaving behind a smirking Severus Snape.

.x.

As summer dwindled into fall, Hermione visibly began to wilt. She picked at her food and often stared listlessly out of their bedroom window. Shortly after term began, she stopped reading. The copious number of books Severus provided her left untouched.

He tried to do her right. Never did he abuse his young wife. He never struck her and had not verbally lashed her since their argument about schooling. He did not lose his temper around her nor did he drink himself into a drunken stupor. And never did he touch her aside from the occasional attempt at a kiss. Recently, she came to bed on her own volition, tucking herself under the covers without his needing to fetch her from the couch or wherever else she could attempt to sleep. In fact, he treated her quite well, in his opinion. He brought her books and her favored treats; he even tolerated the presence of that obnoxious feline she called a familiar. Yet the witch behaved as if life was not worth living if she could not go to class.

"What is it that you want from me," Severus found himself asking one evening. Hermione looked dreadfully pale, her hair was left in a tangled mass and she held a cold cup of tea in her hands. She shook her head. Silent. "Hermione. Look at me when I am speaking to you."

She refused to meet his gaze but did speak in a broken whisper.

"Can't you leave me alone? You've trapped me in your chambers and won't allow me to see or communicate with my friends or family. My parents have to be worried sick. They think I spent my summer at the Burrow and would be peppering them with letters around now about my classes." Her grip tightened on the tiny cup. "My friends…I don't know what the Order told them. Do they think I am a coward who fled the country? Do they think I'm dead? What will they think of me when I make a sudden reemergence after the war ends? If it ends. And if I have a child by then…your child…Merlin. They'll hate me. I've lost everything because of this Act…and because of you. There is nothing you can do to make this better unless you plan to free me."

"You must stay here, Hermione. And when the war is over, you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

"You assume too much…"

"Ah. But I know you."

"If you know me so well, you wouldn't stop me from participating in the war. You wouldn't deny me my education!"

The fire missing from her eyes returned in a violent spark of indignation. The cup in her hands shattered and a strong gust of wind burst through the room, sending papers scattering like frightened birds. Severus eyed her flushed cheeks and heaving chest. There was his passionate lioness. Acting swiftly, the wizard crossed the distance between them in two long strides and hauled Hermione from her seat to crush her against his chest. She gasped. And he took advantage of her surprise by catching her lips with his.

She resisted, just as he suspected she would.

But as he disengaged, Hermione startled him by grabbing two fistfuls of his oily hair and pulling him close. Their violent embrace continued for a few minutes, before Severus felt her hands leave his hair and attack his buttons. He broke away long enough to hiss a warning.

"Be certain that this is what you want, Hermione."

She yanked open his shirt and growled mockingly in return,"It's what _you_ want, isn't it?And that's what really matters. I'm just your captive mudblood bride for you to do with as you will. Go ahead, _Severus_, fuck me. Take you husbandly rights. My life hasn't been mine since our marriage. My future is in shambles. You've taken to taunting me with a chance to take my NEWTs, even though we both know that, with two children, I won't have time to do them. All that's left that is mine is my body. And you've already defiled it once before and made a whore of me. So go ahead, _husband_. Fuck me."

Severus leapt away as if burnt by _Incendio_.

"What is it? Can't bear the truth?" Hermione sneered.

"No…You're purposefully misconstruing…"

"I'm misconstruing nothing! So either fuck me or sod off, you overgrown bat!"

Quicker than Hermione could blink, Severus spun on his heel and exited their chambers with a resounding slam of the door. His breathing came in ragged, agitated puffs. As he steadied his temper and his heartbeat, the surly wizard tried his best to ignore the faint sobbing drifting into the dungeons. Suddenly, his Dark Mark burned.

His Master was calling.

.x.

Merlin! The pain. And blood. So much blood. Just a few more steps…all he had to do was remain conscious for a few more steps and he would be in his rooms. He could nurse his wounds in private. That is, if he did not bleed out on the stone floor.

The Dark Lord had made his displeasure with his spy known.

A wrench of excruciating pain lanced through his nervous system like a lightning bolt. Every muscle clenched and quivered, like elastic bands wound too tight, ready to snap. Only by sheer force of will did Severus remain standing as spasms wracked his body. Minutes ticked by like hours. And when the agony passed, the wizard let out a gasp and slumped against the portrait guarding his door. Black dots flooded his vision as he struggled to clear his head and move his lips. What was the password again?

"Asphodel."

Darkness overcame him as the whisper left his lips.

So close. He was so close.

.x.

Warm hands and mournful lullaby greeted Severus when he woke. Was he dead? Was he dreaming? It felt nice, those hands…and the song…why was she sad? He opened his eyes, wanting to catch a glimpse of the angel stroking his face and crooning so sweetly. As he managed to peel sleep sticky lids apart, the gentle ministrations ceased and the angel fell silent.

He blinked.

The angel wore the face of his harpy of a wife. Which meant he was alive. Bugger.

"S-severus?"

He groaned. Memories returned to him in a rush. Voldemort's plan. His displeasure with Severus and wavering trust. The curses. The screaming. The pain. E'gads…the pain. His body throbbed with lingering aches and every inch of him felt stiff.

"Severus. Severus, what happened?"

The wizard turned his head. Simply thinking hurt. What he needed was sleep and a stiff drink, not an interrogation.

"Stay with me, Severus. Come on. Wake up." He felt those gentle hands of hers begin to poke and prod incessantly. Insufferable chit. Didn't the know-it-all realize that the best cure for his hurts was rest? "Open your eyes!" Why? He felt dozy and light all of the sudden. Hypnos and Morpheus bid him deeper into the realms of sleep and dreams. "No…no. no. no. Wake up!" Did she just slap him? "Dumbledore! Dumbledore! Help."

A flash of green permeated his vision.

"I tried. Gods, I tried."

"Be calm, Madame. Your husband has survived worse than this."

Not by choice. There was many an occasion where he welcomed Thantos with open arms. Death evaded him, however, as if taking some sick pleasure in denying Severus the afterlife.

"You said to keep him awake if he woke…you said it was a matter of life or death!"

"It could possibly be…Severus? Can you hear me, my boy?" Dumbledore came to stare at him. Those blue eyes did not twinkle with dotty mischief. They were hard, menacing…the eyes of a General. "Let me see."

In no state to occlude the master Legilimens, Severus allowed the wizened wizard to peer into his memories. Same as always. An impersonal routine. Bastard.

Dumbledore pulled away after a few minutes and turned to Hermione.

"All is well, Madame."

All is well. He is tortured for the sick pleasure of it and all the old man could say was 'All is well.'

Severus closed his eyes. He needed sleep.

.x.

Something changed after that night. After Hermione saw him half dead in the name of duty. She grew quieter, but her sullenness did not return. Her silence seemed more introspective. As if she were spending her time pondering some impossible theory.

Color returned to pallid cheeks and as did the stone of weight she lost. Severus attributed her occasional smiles to the books she was now devouring.

In her new state of mind, she seemed more accepting of her fate. Much to his suspicion as well as pleasure. His kisses were allowed, as was the occasional, roving touch. Was it pity that drove her? Was it teenage hormones? What would make a girl stop recoiling from his touch? Did it matter? He liked the compliance. He enjoyed the silence. If he was going to have a wife, one that was quiet and obedient held its appeal. But what he savored was her passion. She seemed more lively but he missed her temper, her burning fire. He wanted her to shout and argue, to challenge him.

He also wanted that passionate creature in his bed. He wanted to taste the salt from her skin, slick with sweat. He wanted to cup her breasts and catch a taut nipple between his teeth. He wanted to hear her moans…her sharp cries of pleasure. He wanted to feel her writhe beneath him, their bodies melded as if one.

He wanted…he wanted…everything.

Images of his young wife ripe with child, her hands curled in his hair as she whispered naughty suggestions into his ear. Images of a world free of the Dark Lord…free of war. Images of a time and place where they were both safe, alive and happy. Dare he hope?

A wicked thought offered a suggestion.

It would be terribly selfish of him to do as his whims bid. But how tempting…The war took his every dream away from him. Old magic dropped into his lap a chance at having what he desired.

.2.

"Severus?"

"Yes Hermione."

It had been three months since their marriage and a mild truce had since fallen between them. Hermione did not rage at him for being an insensitive bastard who took away her chance at education (she was learning more on her own time anyway, in his opinion). And Severus made an attempt to be civil and keep her up to date with the war. She still shot the occasional barb his way when he informed her of Potter's latest mishaps. But mostly, they tolerated each other. Tolerated.

He had not expected her to be so difficult to seduce.

True, she came to his bed each evening and permitted his attentions. But only to a point. Only once since their wedding night did they dance the wicked dance of skin, sweat and pleasure. And neither of them could remember very well. Firewhiskey and despair never should meet. How pitiful of a man was he, a so-called master of manipulation and deception, if the only reason his _wife_ succumbed to his amorous intentions was because she was drunk and vulnerable? Hell! He'd been too inebriated himself to consider why taking his reluctant bride to bed would clearly be a bad idea once realized in the harsh light of day? She did not speak to him for a week after the incident, and even after a month, Severus could still feel the tension thick between them.

Thus it came as a surprise when she approached him whilst he was grading papers with a violent flourish of a red-tipped quill. Severus regarded the young witch fidgeting before him like a naughty student with indifference. She looked surprisingly fragile, almost child-like as she chewed her lip and fiddled with her skirt. Her eyes were downcast, though he could note dark smudges beneath them as if she had not slept well the previous night. And her normally pristine nails were thoroughly bitten to nubs, the cuticles red with sores.

Hermione trembled. Tears began to form in her eyes.

"Hermione!" Severus stood. The essays of imbeciles could wait. "What is the matter?"

"I'm sorry."

He frowned,"Whatever for?"

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" It became a bitter mantra.

"For Merlin's sake, what is wrong you blasted witch?"

"You hate me. I know you hate me… But I'm sorry!"

"I do not hate you, silly girl." Severus assured her in clipped tones. But when he reached out towards his wife, she flinched away, as if expecting him to strike her. "Cease these histrionics. Crying will solve nothing." She began to sob harder, a keen wail building at the back of her throat.

"I'm sorry."

Her apologies. Her cowering disposition. It reminded him of his mother. He remembered her excuses, her regretful groveling, her acceptance of abuses. She took the blame for every action Severus' father made against her and her son. It did not matter that Tobias was a worthless drunk. The man could do no wrong. To see Hermione in such a state made his stomach roil. What had he done? Why would Hermione cower before him in tears when he had said naught against her? She should be happy…or at least content.

"Stop apologizing!" he found himself snarling. She hiccoughed and covered her face with both hands. "Hermione. What have you done?" Severus paused and took in a deep breath when she squeaked. He needed to speak calmly. "What have you done? Regardless of what has occurred, I promise it will not incite my anger. I shall not harm you. Do please stop crying and tell me."

"I…I…" She visibly struggled with the words. Then, she suddenly dropped her hands from her face and gripped his hair. It startled him when her arms shot up, but he acquiesced with her silent plea to lower his face. Once eye-to-eye, Hermione nodded at him, her gaze open but filled with distress. Gently as possible, Severus slipped into her mind.

Images flashed past him, flooded him, slipping by in a rapid, nonsensical sequence. He saw her riding a bike as a child. Next she was huddled with Potter and Weasley in the Gryffindor common room. He saw her in various classes. Transfiguring a matchstick in a needle, levitating a feather flawlessly, clutching helplessly to a broom, watching a hippogriff slice open Draco Malfoy's arm…He saw himself, lecturing, pacing, eating, grading papers, dueling Lockhart…kissing the side of her neck. Offering her books. Tutoring her.

And then…

Severus yanked himself out of her memories to stare at Hermione in shock. The last memory. A recent one. A secret one. A memory which felt rife with fear and other emotions. Was it possible? Was it true?

"How long…How long have you known?" he asked.

"Only for certain since yesterday." She said. "Though I have had my suspicions for a while now. I've…I've been more or less denying the obvious truth for a while now."

"How…how far along are you?"

"How long have we been married?"

Severus blinked with surprise,"Truly? That long?"

"M-my mum said she did not have many…symptoms until later on. Her courses were never predictable to start with, nor mine…. Said it was terribly difficult for her and dad to conceive and that the delivery was right dreadful…but pregnancy was…was the easiest part. Unlike some who get sick for months on end. She was near seven months along before her clients even noticed her…condition."

They stared at each other for a few minutes in silence before Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and offered a sad,"Surprise."

He snapped free of his wandering thoughts when tears began to form in her eyes again.

"Why were you apologizing for your condition?"

"We're in the middle of a war! My state puts you in danger! The Order needs the information you provide. You keep everyone safe and worrying about…this," she motioned to her stomach. "…will only distract you from your duties."

"I'm always in danger." He whispered before kneeling. With a burning curiosity—an instinct ingrained by generations of humans, both wizard and muggle alike—Severus reached out to place a hand on Hermione's midsection. Was it true? Was she with child? His child? It was what he wanted, after all. The reason he was so determined to seduce his young wife was to produce a child. To create a family. All in a wild hope that it would bring her closer to him and keep her in his bed. It was a fantasy created from flimsy dreams that he had long ago dismissed as impossible. At least, until the Act had bound this young witch to him with certain stipulations.

"I...we…it's not right!"

"What could be more right than a woman with child?"

Hermione pushed his hands away from her barely convex belly. "Stop that! We…I…We can't have a child now. I can't. It's the wrong time. There is no end to the war in sight. We…we can't hardly look at each other without bickering. A child should be bourn of love into a secure home. Not this…this farce!"

Severus stiffened, sensing immediately where this conversation was leading. Tears were building in his young bride's eyes again.

"I'm sorry. So sorry." She wrapped her arms around herself again. "I can't."

"You are not terminating this pregnancy."

"It's wrong! I'm not ready…I can't do this now. I'm sorry, but I…I thought you should know…before I…I did anything."

"I said: You are not terminating this pregnancy." Severus towered over her, brimming with anger. How dare she even contemplate such actions? Was this her way of exacting revenge? To tell him of her condition then rip it all away with a haphazardly concocted potion while he was busy. Did the idiot girl not think of his feelings, his beliefs? Did she not consider the consequences the Act would rain down upon her for willfully aborting a pregnancy? By Merlin, she'd be left as little more than a muggle if she carried out her plan! "You will be ridiculously happy and love this child, Hermione. Despite the circumstances of its conception, it does not deserve to die…and you should not throw your life away in haste."

"Overbearing bastard! What gives you the right to say what to do with my body?"

"Think for a moment before you speak." Severus knew his eyes had to be burning like hot coals for all the fury he felt bottled within him. "Do you honestly think the Act will allow you to terminate? If the situation was different…if the Act was not binding us…I would brew you the necessary potion myself. But we are husband and wife, Hermione. We are bonded by old magicks. The timing is not ideal, but we knew this day was to come soon. This child…our child…it should be given a chance. And losing your magic and mind are a staggering cost for delaying the inevitable."

Hermione stared at him with wide, child-like eyes.

"I can't…"

"You can…we can…"

"My life really is over, isn't it?"

"It's only beginning."

Hermione wiped her face with the back of her hand and grimaced,"Cut the crap and leave me alone. Stop pretending you care." She then walked away, leaving Severus alone in the sitting room.

"What if it is not an act, my dear?"

Only Hogwarts heard his softly spoken admittance. Only candles flickered in response.

.x.

The world continued to turn and the months trickled by like molasses in winter. Autumn faded away beneath layers of frost, and soon the world bled white. Snow blanketed the earth thickly, and no amount of bundling could quite keep away the chill. Hogwarts' vast halls grew eerily quiet when the students departed on holiday. The ancient castle seemed as if it were almost holding its breath—as if it were waiting…watching.

Severus could feel the tension thicken until the air crackled with violent expectation. The Dark Lord grew restless. As did the Order. Each meeting, whether with the lord of darkness himself or with the champions of light, heaped upon him more responsibility…more doubt. Trust on both sides was wavering towards their spy…both aware of his status, neither certain of his true alignment. His secreting away of Hermione near six months prior only deepened the paranoia of his Masters.

Both expected the girl to be their pawn. The Dark Lord wanted her found and killed—her husband disposed of accordingly—to further break Potter when he presented the girl's mangled body to him. Dumbledore wanted Hermione out of sight, to act as incentive for Potter to continue blindly following him like a good little puppet. However, Severus could see in the old man's eyes that, despite his proclaimed unwavering trust in his spy, that he doubted his intentions towards the girl. But sacrifices had to be made and Hermione was the sheep presented on the altar when she met Potter on the train six years ago and the later proved to be the trio's brain.

Speaking of which…Potter proved impulsive and foolish with Hermione at his side. His actions at the ministry of magic led to the death on one Sirius Black—the mongrel deserved it—and the boy had been wallowing in his misery ever since. Without Hermione, Severus watched the Potter boy sink deeper and deeper in the depths of darkness. His very aura reeked of Dark Magic. The brat was playing with forces he could not possibly understand and Dumbledore kept his lips sealed tight.

Severus hated the ever growing distrust surrounding him. It was suffocating. The Dark Lord rarely called him, a clear sign of his dwindling favor. Dumbledore and the Order often excluded him from meetings—for his own protection, they claimed. And with all sides holding their breath, wands drawn in wait, he felt constantly in the midst of the crossfire. It was clear that something had to give and soon…and that the odds of him surviving the break were minimal.

The spark which finally lit the inferno of war was small. Practically irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Dumbledore found a ring. Apparently, ever since the Dark Lord's return, the headmaster had been seeking out certain artifacts tainted with the blackest of magic. At the start of the school year, he brought Potter into the fold. He found dark objects and destroyed them. Severus never knew. At least, not until Dumbledore found the ring. Guant's ring. Foolish man put it on, unable to resist temptation, and released a curse on himself. A deadly curse. A curse which Severus did his best to confine but knew would consume the elderly wizard within the year.

Such a little thing, the ring. Severus wondered at its significance as studied the broken remnants on Dumbledore's desk.

"It has begun," Dumbledore murmured as his spy at last turned his gaze to him.

Severus left the headmaster's office with a heavy heart and an unbreakable vow ringing inside his head.

.x.

"Severus?"

Hermione touched his face as he entered their chambers. Apparently, his discontent lingered on his features. Over the past few weeks, his young wife's demeanor had evolved from furious distance to pensive silence. They did not speak very often. He knew she thrived on chattering inanities. But he was far from the best conversationalist unless the topic involved the dark arts or potions. However, even if they lost themselves in a long debate on academics, once the subject ran its course, they fell silent. Neither seemed able to breech what needed to be said.

A happy, loving marriage it was not.

But oh, how he desired the fantasy. Why could the girl not fall ridiculously in love with him for some idiotic reason? Let her believe him some dark, misunderstood hero. Let her romanticize him and cast him in rose colored light. Young girls wanted to fall in love. They wanted to be appreciated and admired. They wanted to know they were loved and desired. Yet here she was, defying his expectations.

How had her innocence fled so quickly?

This contractual marriage was his chance at having everything he wanted and somehow, he managed to piss his chance away. Why did that make his heart ache so?

"Look at me, Severus. You're positively ghostly. Has something happened? Is everyone alright? My parents…are they…what about Harry? Ron? The Order…" Questions flew past her lips with rapidly growing intensity as she peppered him with unrestrained worry. Pregnancy had sent her hormones into a confusing spiral as of late, and when she thought him absent, Hermione had taken to fits of anxiety. He would never admit it aloud, but it hurt terribly to know how little she trusted him with her sorrows after half a year together. He had such big plans in the beginning. He was so certain he'd be able to wrap her around his finger and the girl would fall madly and heedlessly in love—or at the very least in lust—with him.

Severus batted her hands away from his face and closed his eyes,"Your parents and Potter have come to no physical injury." The same could not be said for the mind of the brat-who-lived. Dark Magic frequently brought the strongest of men to the brink of madness, and more often than not, even they succumbed to the fall. "However, I do bring grave news."

Hermione blinked up at him with big, innocent, fearful eyes.

"The headmaster is dying."

"No." She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp of disbelief.

"Indeed. I fear that his death will be the break of a new era…though under whose banner, I am unsure."

"Harry will defeat V-vold…" she bit back the name that must never be said upon seeing his dark glare. "You-know-who. He will defeat him and there will be peace."

"Such naiveté."

"No…not naiveté, hope. I was—am—friends with Harry and have been for years. I know he will do something foolish and impulsive and dangerous…and I hate that I will not be there to save him. But it keeps me going to know, to have faith…to have hope, that he will prevail. Even without me, he will find some way to bring down the evil which has haunted this world for too long. Because, I can't imagine living in a world where you-know-who rules…I refuse to. My child will not live in an era under that bastard's reign."

Severus shook his head,"Tis sad times we live in if our faith most rest solely on the shoulders of a child." He turned towards his young wife and focused his gaze on her belly. How she had bloomed. She looked radiant and luscious, like some fertility goddess ripe with new life. Without warning, he gathered Hermione into his arms and buried his nose in her riotous swath of curls.

Hesitantly, Hermione returned his somber embrace.

.3.

He was dying.

He knew it. He could feel it. He expected it.

Despite everything, Severus suspected that he would not live to see the end of the war.

Somehow, the Dark Lord had figured it out. Was there a spy? Did his own mind betray him? Did it matter anymore? His marriage to Hermione and the impending birth of their child was no longer a secret. It was treachery enough for him to be sentenced to execution. After all, the loyal spy had been lying for months about the identity of the girl's spouse. Not only that, but he sired a child on the mudblood the Dark Lord wanted dead. Severus would serve as an example to all. Even the inner circle was not safe from their master's displeasure.

But Hermione was safe. That was all that mattered. Secreted away in the dungeons of Hogwarts with a portkey that would sweep her away to someplace safe and secret-kept upon his death or the fall of the school's wards—she would not come to harm. He gifted her with the trinket a few days earlier, making her swear to him to wear it always, when the heat of war had become too intense to ignore. The death he always expected, but had been dreaming would never come, returned to his thoughts when the Dark Lord began to dissolve into the depths of paranoia.

Death Eaters were dropping left and right at the hand of their dear master.

And today, it was his turn.

The first curse had seized him the moment he apparated to his dark master's side. From there, it worsened—the egomaniac drawing sadistic pleasure from every cry of agony he could elicit from a man known for his dispassionate nature and tolerance of pain. Severus sank behind his occlumency barriers, building up walls until he felt nothing…saw nothing…was nothing. Deeper and deeper he drifted into the memories he kept buried. Memories he could no longer recall.

Eventually, the darkness consumed him. All of him. His name. His past. Everything. His very identity faded into black nothingness. His very last thoughts were of Hermione and whether or not their unborn child would have her eyes or his.

.x.

"Wake up, Sev!"

Severus groaned and wiped his face with the back of his hand. His mouth tasted of blood and grit and his body felt bruised all over. Funny. He never was partial to the idea of heaven or hell. The afterlife he imagined had been of mindless purgatory—no sinners, no saints, just the spirits of mortals waiting to be cleansed and reborn. Then again, when he considered it, he never imagined hell quite as what he saw before him.

In fact, it looked exactly like the park he and Lily used to go when they were children. Except, in grayscale.

Suddenly, color filled his vision in form of red hair and startling green eyes.

"Lily! How? What is going on?" Severus scrambled to his feet and found himself standing eye-to-eye with a ten year old Lily Potter nee Evans. She smiled at him and giggled, her freckled nose wrinkling with pleasure. Her dainty hands wrapped around his wrist as she tugged him towards the swing set. How many years had it been since she last bestowed upon him such a free gesture of affection?

Love—old, unrequited and unforgotten—surged into his chest like a harpoon. It hurt. This girl grew into a woman who destroyed him. He gave up everything to protect her and upon failing that, her son. Even when she spurned him and fell into the arms of Severus' tormentor, he loved her with the deadly intensity of obsession. She owned him from the day they met and years after she died.

He loved her so much, thought of her every day…until recently. Until Hermione. His obsessions became focused on a new woman, whose affections were even more unattainable than Lily's. Was this his eternal torment? To be reminded for the rest of eternity of his failures in form of his first and most fatal love?

Severus, lost in his thoughts, lowered himself onto the saddle of a swing and swallowed against the bile building in his throat.

"Sev. What's wrong?" Hearing Lily speak after so long nearly shattered his nerves. He refused to look up at the beautiful girl whose very presence haunted him. "It's okay of you don't want to talk about it. I understand."

He shook his head. She could not possibly comprehend…

"But the hurt will keep hurting if you keep it all bottled up. It's okay to cry, Sev. I won't tell."

"Perhaps I want to hurt." At least then he could claim he could feel. Numbness was replacing all sensation. Pain would be a welcome reprieve from nothingness.

"That's just silly!"

Severus could not help it, he flung himself to his feet and glared at the girl swinging idly beside him. She seemed nonplussed and beamed up at him as if nothing were amiss.

"Oh Sev…I wish you would let go of the pain. Then you could be happy. You deserve it."

"What?"

"I said: You deserve to be happy. After all, you did protect my son and the Order, sacrificing your very life and sanity in the process."

What did it matter? "I'm dead."

"Of course you're not dead, silly! Otherwise, we would not be talking right now. In fact, you're in limbo and I'm the one sent to take you to otherworld. Oh don't look at me like that. Smile, it suits you better than all this scowling you've been doing. Ah well…no smiles? Anyway, as I was saying. I'm to take you to the otherworld. It's rather nice there. It is where you go to wait for your loved ones or to forget the past and be reborn anew. If you stay here, you'll become a ghost until you come to terms with your death. Or…"

"There is an or?"

"Yes. There is. Or you can go back."

"Go back…that's impossible."

"Love is an amazing thing, Sev."

"No one loves me, Lily. Certainly not enough to undo the ties of death."

"Are you so certain that you would deny a second chance at living?" Lily drug her heels in the sand and brought her swing to a stop. She then stood. "Hurry now. Make a choice. Follow me, stay here…or follow her." Severus followed the path of her outstretched arm as she pointed towards the street.

Standing there was Hermione.

"How?"

"I told you, love is an amazing thing."

It was impossible. She hated him. Well, perhaps hate was a strong word. She tolerated him at best, but love him? No. It had to be Stockholm Syndrome or…or some figment produced by his dying brain. Some wild, hapless fantasy that somehow, his young wife had fallen even a smidgeon in love with him during their eight months together. It was all he wanted after all, her love. He had wanted to die knowing at least one person had loved his miserable hide.

Hermione appeared distraught as she looked around, but as he gaze settled on him, she smiled with relief.

Severus felt a hand touch his shoulder and heard a faint whisper in his ear as Hermione raced towards him.

"Good luck, Sev."

Then, just as his wife's fingers touch his, all went dark.

.x.

"We're losing him, again!"

"He's lost too much blood."

"How is he even alive?"

"Damnit, he's fading fast."

"Just give up. He's a hopeless cause. Bastard's not worth our time anyway."

"He is a hero!"

"Ha! Hero? He's a Death Eater. Look at his wrist. The Headmaster was losing his marbles for years, haven't you ever read the prophet? Hero. Pft! Old fool was tricked."

"Dumbledore said…"

"The both of you, shove it! He's…he's stabilizing."

"Lucky son-of-a-bitch."

.x.

Severus existed. It was all he knew. He presumed he was alive. After all, he heard voices. He felt hunger. He felt weariness. He dreamed. Yet he floated. So surreal. He felt detached from his body, as if there were a layer of water between he and his senses. Words were muffled and warped and each touch—yes, he could feel touch—seemed against a second skin overlaying his own.

What was wrong? Why could he not wake up?

.x.

"Severus…"

_Yes?_

"Severus…come back to me. To us."

_I am. _

"I never thought I'd say this. But I miss you. I want you back. Even if you were an overbearing, unfeeling bastard…I…"

_Please. Do continue._

"Never mind that. Just come back. It's okay for you to return. The healers said that you are physically recovered from the trauma of the attack. But, you are Occluding, Severus. You've blocked yourself into your own mind, into someplace safe, and I just want you to know that it's safe. The war is over. We've won. We…we won."

_You're crying, Hermione. I can hear you. Why are you crying?_

"I…I heard about the vow you made Dumbledore. It is terrible that he made you promise to kill him if it meant protecting your position as spy or to save him from being tortured by the enemy. He released you from that vow...j-just three days before he died. Harry told me that Dumbledore proclaimed you a hero when the war ended. V-voldemort died whilst distracted by….by torturing you. The healers declared you…dead when your body was taken to St. Mungo's. You weren't breathing, your heart had stopped. Do you know that the sick bastard tried to feed you t-to Nagini? Her teeth marks were all over your throat and chest. T-there was no way for you to be alive and everyone knew it. I knew it. I-I wasn't supposed to see your body, but after the Portkey took me to the safe house…I, I went into labor a month premature. The house elf your left with me took me to the hospital at the same time you were being brought in. No one knows how or why, but your lifeforce returned shortly after I arrived. Your body has been recovering ever since, yet you remain comatose and unresponsive. "

_I can feel your tears against my arm, Hermione. Why are you weeping? You are free of me and the Act. My death, no matter how brief, has broken whatever hold the magicks have upon us. _

"Gods, I'm rambling, but I can't help it. I have so much to say and so little time to say it. T-they're taking the suspension charms off of you. Said there is little point in keeping a dead man alive when so many need help these days. Voldemort may be dead and the war over, but there is still so much death going on. So much suffering. I want our son to grow up in a time of peace, not bloodshed!"

_Son? I have a son?_

"And I want him to have a father. Please, wake up Severus. Come back to me. Open your eyes and see our son for the first time."

_I'm the overbearing bastard who took away your future, your freedom, your sense of choice. You should be happy that I'll be gone. You can find someone knew, and forget I ever existed. Someone who will love you less selfishly than I. Yes. I love you. I know that now. You were mind and little did you realize that I was yours until death do us part. I wanted to protect you, Hermione. I wanted to possess you. That way, you could never leave. That way, we could be happy. Most witches and wizards would perceive my actions as wrong, my affections nonexistent. They would see your love as but a symptom of our child's conception. Now…now they will never know of our foolish dreams and you can move on. We were never meant to fall in love and have happily ever after. I can accept that. _

"Gods damn it, Severus! Stop being a selfish prick for once in your life and wake up!"

_Is…is that pomegranate I taste? Foolish chit, what have you done?_

"I will pull you from the gates of Hades if I have to, Severus Snape."

_Oh, what have I done to you for you to attempt this idiocy? That potion is Dark! It will bind our souls for the rest of bloody eternity, in life and in death. _Persephone's Promise_ will tether you more strongly than even that blasted Marriage Act. You will be forever the spring to my perpetual winter. To save me from the brink of death now will curse you to your own premature demise when nature takes its due course. Why? Why!_

"I love you."

_You shouldn't._

.x.

Severus Snape was far from deluded. He knew that he was not have supposed to be alive. He knew that no matter how heroic the populous believed him to be, the fact remained that he was a former Death Eater. A double agent for the Order of the Phoenix, but still a man who once reveled in the blackest of arts. Fame would do little to wash away that stigma. His life and future prospects ended when the Dark Lord seared his mark onto Severus' left arm. To still be breathing when the smoke of war cleared only doomed him to an uncertain and unstable future, one rife with trials.

Who would hired him? Who would trust him? Supporters of the Dark Lord would be out for his blood and that of anyone associated with him. It would have been better to have died. At least then, Hermione and their son could live in peace, her unfortunate marriage to him garnering pity and admiration for her circumstances and strength.

Yet he here was, breathing, quite alive. Though, not quite unscathed.

According to the mediwitches, he was lucky to have awoken from his coma with any semblance of his mind intact. They suspected that due to his prolonged session of torture and, recently well-known, proficiency at occlumency, that he had retreated too deeply into himself to be retrieved. That, if hewas to recover any mental awareness he would be little more than a child, his adult life sealed behind impenetrable walls. He heard them telling Hermione about her options. She cried when they mentioned making a bed for him in the Thickly Ward.

Severus lived to defy expectations. Even when he was not trying to live.

He never lost his mental facilities—if he had, he would have been aware of it in his comatose state. No, when he woke, he was undoubtedly and unfortunately, sane and with clear recall of his miserable history.

But, despite his mind escaping irreparable damage, his body was crippled. He noticed his impairment the moment he woke and attempted to raise all bloody hell in the usual way. By yelling like an indignant child and storming off in a huff. Except, no sound came out of Severus' throat except for a guttural rasp, which he promptly choked on and began coughing. His chest hurt, it felt as if his lungs were constricted by some enormous weight.

When his hand came up in an instinctive motion towards his throat, he noticed that his middle finger was missing and that a long scar ran up his wrist all the way to his elbow. Not only had he been scarred by his final confrontation with his dark master, but mutilated. Severus absently touched his face and traced a thick line that marked him from chin to brow, narrowly missing his eye socket. At least he could still see, it meant that the snake's venom had not blinded him, nor had someone decided to gouge out his eyes for a trophy.

As the hand he used to touch his wounded face lowered to his chest, Severus began to wonder why Hermione would bind them together with a potion for what felt like the umpteenth time. Never was he a handsome nor pleasant man, but now, he was a disfigured cripple who had nothing to offer her but misery. Why did she not let him die?

_Why did I dare return to life?_

Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice the door open, allowing a single person entrance into the sterile solitude of his private hospital room.

"Severus!" Said wizard looked up in shock as a bushy-haired witch thrust herself into his person. "You're awake. Thank god. I thought that despite everything that you'd leave me." He wanted to berate her for her foolishness, to scold her for her thoughtlessness, to kiss her senseless for her sacrifices…for her love, her their child. The woman he wanted to desire him beyond all else, to adore him as husband and lord, to be his despite all his sins…she was curled around him, covering him in kisses.

A few minutes later, she fell into silence as she cried what he supposed were happy tears.

Then the door opened to permit two people he never wanted to see again. Potter and Weasley, the other two-thirds to the illustrious trio. Apparently they must have accepted her marriage to him and the fact that they had a son together, because the Weasley boy was cradling a bundle of cloth in his arms one could only presume was an infant. How dare he touch what was Severus'?

"What's wrong?" Hermione noticed his scowl and followed the path of his eyes. "Oh!" She grinned. "That's our son, Sebastian William Snape. Do you want to see him?" She did not even wait for him to respond before scurrying over to the brat-who-lived-twice and Weasley to retrieve the infant. "He's a touch small, but that is because he was born too soon."

It was fortunate that she did not offer to let him hold the babe, because, to his disgust, Severus doubted he had the strength to lift the sheet from his legs, much less support a child in his arms. He did not know how long he had been hospitalized or exactly the extent of his injuries, but he was familiar enough with his body to know when his strength would fail him. Merlin! It pained him to be so weak, so pathetic.

"I don't know why you keep coming here to see the git," Severus heard Weasely grumble. The redhead had his arms crossed in a defensive manner and was glaring pointedly at his former Potion's Master. "The bloody bastard treated you like shit and kept you locked up in the dungeons for eight months. He was no good for you then and even worse for you now. I mean honestly, he'll probably be stuck in that bed for the rest of his life!"

Hermione flinched but did not leave Severus' side as she retorted,"We've discussed this Ronald. I'm not leaving him. Nor will I run into your arms any time soon."

The freckle-faced twit flushed red.

But he paled when Potter placed a hand on his shoulder,"She loves him, Ron. You know what Dumbledore said about the power of love."

"I love her…"

"C'mon, let's leave Hermione with Snape. She's been waiting for him to wake up for months now, and even brewed a potion to help when everyone else gave up. He's her husband and father of her child. She nearly lost him not too long ago. Let them be."

"Oh Harry. When did you grow up?"

The brat-who-lived pushed up his glasses and scratched his scar in habitual gesture of nervousness. "When you weren't looking, I guess. I'll see you at the Burrow later, alright?" He then grabbed Weasley's arm and pulled him through the door, allowing it to swing quietly shut behind them.

Hermione sniffed and cradled the child against her bosom. She bounced him gently when he started to become fussy. And she smiled when she gazed down at him.

"It's strange, really. Babies are mostly born with blue eyes."

Severus, wishing he could enquire just what she was rambling about, blinked with surprise when she lowered Sebastian onto the bed next to his face.

Eyes identical to his own stared back at him.

-fin-

**A/N: **

**This story has been my brain child for a little while and was the product of reading and discussing various interpretations of the greek myth, 'The Rape of Persephone'. I found myself thinking about all the different ways to see the relationship between the two gods. Did Hades court Persephone before or after his abduction of her into the Underworld? Was she tricked into or willing to consume the pomegranate seeds which bound her to the land of the dead and its lord? Were they forever at odds with each other or did they fall into love? Were they possibly always in love? Did Persephone willingly return to the Underworld each year or did she mourn alongside her mother Demeter during the months of winter? **

**For those of you familiar with greek mythology or at least this particular tale, I hope you can find my little bits of symbolism and allusions to the myth in this story. **


End file.
